The HawkEyed Angel
by EmeraldxLady
Summary: Altair and Christine have seen each other every third night for the past year in Christine's room. In love secretly yet separated by a religious war, Christine believes that her love for her shadowy hawk-eyed angel is foolish yet she cannot help herself. Altair's visits grow suspicion among his branch of the order. Rated M for freedom, violence and sexual themes, Altair/OC.
1. Angel

**Beware...this story will have a lot of smut, lemon, whatever you wanna call it... Christine is a fine character and I had this idea for a while... ha ha. I need smut... because I am a pervert that way **

**I know our heroine seems kind of Mary Sueish right now but...I'm trying to be both historically accurate and original. (this plot line is so not original though)I promise I'll expand more on her character. **

**Anyways, all AC goes to Ubisoft**

**All OC are mine. **

* * *

It was never intentional, this blistering hot romance between two of the most unlikely. A fantasy romance which you would hear in only the most favorite tales among the people, a tale of a love that was considered forbidden in a time of war during the heated battle of the second and third crusade. The time where the Templar's and the assassins fought and King Richard the Lion Heart proclaimed Jerusalem for Britain as Holy Land for the Christians. An unintentional love between a pair that's could only look at each other for the longest time, a mere touch on the cheek could result in severe punishment.

Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad was an assassin of sorts, a gifted one, he burst through the ranks, swooping down on his prey like a hawk, he was always careful when it came to his missions. However, he was reckless and rebellious by nature, causing tension between the ones he knew and destroying his relationship with Abbas, his childhood friend, the child of the man who killed his own family. However, Abbas refused to believe that his own father committed suicide in front of Altaïr.

Life was simple for those among the order, to kill or be killed, to prove a point, to strive and be loyal to the cause, to betray the order was like betraying ones family. Altaïr was a man of purpose and cause; he would see to it that it was successfully fulfilled.

However, he had expected Allah to place a challenging obstacle, one that would challenge everything he held dear, a challenge with eyes of silver grey. On every third night for the past year, he would risk everything to be in her presence the woman whom called him her hawk-eyed angel. He would not venture any closer, for fear of alerting others of his presence, but every night, he could still feel the warm skin his fingertips would gently brush against, brining out something within him that was unnatural to his personality. A fair gentleness that would shock his fellow assassins, though felt that such a romance would only be in fairytales, it was happening to him. He tortured himself by restraint; he barely touched her when he long desired to do more than just innocent touching. A passionate lust fed his romantic feelings for the woman who stared at the moon, A pale woman with features unlike the rest of the Europeans, it was subtle but he noticed her true beauty laid within her mind, a kind woman, intelligent yet preferred a life of simplicity; she spoke of her golden sister and poetic father. He knew her, but she hardly knew him, the true him.

* * *

Christine kissed her rosewood rosary tenderly as she looked up at the small cross of her lord and savior. She murmured one final prayer before she rose to her feet; she brushed out the wrinkles within her dress before she turned to leave the sanctuary of the church. The blazing heat from the desert sun constantly sought out to burn the delicate skin; she had just arrived from the cloudy and winter weather of Europe to join her mistress here in the desert along with the entire noble family. Christine cursed herself for having such pale skin, everyday someone asks if she felt sick, she was cursed to forever look almost sickly. No rosy, creamy skin like her younger sister Maria with golden hair shining blue eyes, all the men courted her because of her beauty. Christine felt envious of her angelic sister and everyday went to church to pray to the almighty lord to forgive her of her envy for her beloved sister.

Christine was an attractive woman; she had dark, almost black hair from her and always pulled into a braid, she hard large, expressive steel grey eyes that on the rare occasion looked silver. However, Christine had more features of her mother, a sensual French gypsy aside from her pale, British skin. While Maria was the perfect, catholic maiden, described to be an angel sent to earth to bless all in her path. Their father had affectionately nicked named the sisters as polar opposites Maria was the shining sun and Christine was the shimmering moon.

Christine knew that Maria looked up to her, Christine had to hide her envy from her, knowing that it would break their deep bond, though, day by day, she grew to appreciate that her sister was beautiful, inside and out. Maria was a dedicated Christian, a saintly maiden that kept her virginity until her wedding night Maria had married at fifteen.

Christine was becoming an unmarried woman, a old maid that nobody wanted anymore, she would soon be touching twenty, in her culture, it was touching the status of old maidenhood. Her father grieved that no man courted her that they all went after Maria.

As she walked among the market place in the city, she squinted in the sun, such as her father said, the sun was not kind to her, for she was kissed by moonbeams instead of blessed with a fiery halo.

Christine wished her father would stop such nonsense; she was just unfortunate with the pale skin, nothing supernatural about it. The sun needed to be cruel to some, while kind to others, though she on the occasion wished she had the darker skin of the people in Jerusalem so she was not ducking into the shadows to avoid the suns torture. The daytime was always horrendous, ducking into shadows, wearing long sleeves, sweating terribly. However, the nighttime being more comfortable, it was always unbelievably cold.

Upon returning to her mistresses home, she stepped in through the back at the kitchen door, removing her shawl around her head and held it in her hand as workers were preparing tonight's dinner. She had duties she needed to take care of before she allowed to retreat to her room, a solitary place of comfort. Where every third night, her hawk-eyed angel would come, never coming closer than to brush the tip of his fingers against her cheek, to speak in hushed words to her, a nameless figure that is unlike any other man in the world, a man called Altaïr.

Oh, everyday she would think about him, not once did she not think of him, always on the third day, she always felt so anxious to see him, her hawk-eyed angel. His voice was deep, strong that held an air of gentleness to it, he shrouded himself in shadow, on the occasion he would brush his fingers against her cheek almost lovingly, as if tormented with the knowledge that he could never touch her. Christine wished he could come closer; to see his face, to touch him, not return the brush of her fingertips against his jaw line. Her angel was the only person in this land she trusted with all of her heart, this nameless shadow was the man she fell in love with.

A foolish, hopeless love, a love meant for yearlings that are discovering the fruits of such an emotion. Christine should of known better to fall in love with a man she called an angel.

* * *

As the afternoon waned on, Christine eagerly finishing her duties asked by her mistress, after dinner was over, she bathed and clothed her mistress in bedclothes. Soon dismissed from her mistresses side, Christine went to the washroom that the women shared, while the Duchess enjoyed the luxuries of hot water, everyone else bathed with the cold water. Christine wanted to clean herself, be presentable; she did not want to be dirty from today's sweat and grime.

Using a sponge, she washed away the days fifth from her body, she used a bucked of cold water to wash her hair that cascaded in shiny waves down her back. When she finished, she dressed in a light dress and dashed to her room, anxious to see her beloved angel. However, he would not arrive until the moon was at its peak in the starry sky.

Tonight she was full, a silvery orb that hung brightly in the night sky, casting a bright and loving glow down before on mortal earth, her heavens sprinkled with tiny bright stars. Christine basked in the moonlight, her eyes gazing as she let the moonbeams spill into her room, she brushed her hair with a wooden comb before she put it in a braid. The cool air nips her body though she wore a cotton chemise that protected her from the brunt of the cold, desert air. Patiently with an anxious heart, she awaited her Hawk-Eyed Angel. She waited for a long time, no sign of him tonight, which worried her as the moon began to reach her peak, but she continued to wait, looking down at the empty street, on the roof, area where he would perch like a bird next to her window.

"Altaïr…" she whispered but then sighed, leaving the seat by her window, she set the comb back in her small box of personal items, braiding her hair quickly, she looked up in the mirror to check for any mistakes when a black figure sat comfortably at her window. She let out a startled gasp, holding her hand over her mouth, she turned to look at him with her own eyes, he was so close but she dared not move any closer.

"You always look so radiant in moonlight Christine." An amused undertone in his words caused her to blush angrily as she grabbed her shawl and wrapped it around her shoulders.

"Don't scare me like that…" she sat down at the food of her bed, letting out a shaky sigh, she looked at him, his face hidden by his hood, and he wore the black robe once again.

"I apologize…sorry I arrived later than usual, I had a…predicament of sorts."

Christine raised a dark, slender eyebrow "really, how did that happen?" she scooted closer, but he snorted in reply, he avoided these sort of questions, leaving her to her own fantasies.

"Why won't you tell me these things Altaïr, sometimes I worry about you?" Christine asked softly, leaning forward slightly as if to get a better look at her mysterious beloved.

"Don't worry about me Christine, I can handle myself perfectly." Christine saw a smug smirk under the hood, she frowned, and one of few flaws she was aware of was his cocky nature.

"I fear the day something goes wrong." She murmured, he was so close; she wanted to be close to him, feel his warmth and strength rather that observe it from afar.

Altaïr remained quiet for a moment before he suddenly stood, causing Christine's heart to lurch into a dance, she swallowed the hard lump in her throat as he stepped closer until he stood before her. Christine was anxious yet delighted but the sudden change and closeness he showed. With his fingers, he traced along her cheek, before his fingers grazed her lips. Christine closed her eyes in bliss at the contact, she wanted him to touch her, and she craved it more than anything did.

Altaïr let his fingers grazed along her lips, so soft, so warm, so pink, like a rose petal, he felt his own lips part as he withheld his desire to consume her. But kissing was something he could no longer hold back, his hands cupped her face, causing her to look upward as he place his own lips on hers, a passionate kiss. Causing Christine to inhale sharply before she moaned into the kiss, her hand rose to cup his cheek, feeling the beginning growth of facial hair on his face, she gasp for air but his kiss was demanding, almost desperate before he suddenly pulled away.

"I should stop…before I do something I shouldn't," he panted slightly; Christine saw his golden eyes for only a moment. Her face grew hot but she remained in place, her body rigid but she willed herself to calm down.

"Please…let me see your face…" she asked the one question she asked every time he came. There was a pause from him; instead of an automatic 'no' she held her breath as she awaited his response.

"No…not this time." He replied, gazed at her again before he headed for the window, he looked over his shoulder at her, and she stared back at the shadowed man before he disappeared into the night.

The memory of the kiss lingered and festered in her mind as she crawled into bed, quivering with excitement.

Christine was foolishly in love with a shadow.

* * *

**I wrote this late at night, but please R&R...even if its unoriginal, but what is nowadays? **


	2. Suitor

**I hope you like this one... a little slow for a start but it will pick up. **

**now...read!**

* * *

Christine felt distracted all morning, but she forced herself to focus on her tasks in front of her mistress without being scolded for her lack of. Christine wanted to be kissed again; her lips tingled at the memory of those soft, warm lips that claimed hers in desperate hunger.

_My sweet hawk eyed angel… _she thought fondly to herself as she gently combed out the Duchesses hair with a golden comb. Taking care not to harm her with any tangles, she came across before she oiled her hair and massaged her scalp. The Duchess was an older woman, graying but still held the color of her youth, she demanded to put dye in her hair to hide her grey roots and keep her youth.

"Christine, hand me my perfume, I must smell accordingly if I want to present myself to the Duke of York."

"Yes madam…" Christine left her side and fetched her perfume bottle, holding it carefully and handing it with a slight bow to her mistress.

"Ah, thank you…" taking the bottle, the Duchess lightly rubbed her neck and wrists with the perfume before she set the bottle down, two other hand maidens were working hard to make their lady beautiful for the courtly event.

"Christine…how old are you?" her lady asked, Christine was decorating her hair with pearls when she stopped to answer.

"I will be twenty soon, beg your pardon my lady but why do you ask?"

The Duchess chuckled, "I find it strange that you have gone this long without a suitor with your looks and personality."

Christine felt cold; she kept herself from trembling as she continued to put pearl pins in her hair.

"I am not beautiful my Lady…my younger sister is, bless her heart." she finished adding in the final additions before she was to help her in her gown.

"Your sister, tell me, is she fair?" The Duchess sounded interested; Christine had a find smile at the thought of her golden sister.

"Very fair…just like her mother, she and I had different dames."

The Duchess looked mortified; Christine had to finish quickly before her Lady thought badly of her.

"Both under lawful marriage of course…my mother died when I was very young, My father took in another wife and had my sister Maria, a golden child with flaxen hair and eyes of clear blue skies, a perfect maiden under heaven."

The Duchess stood, Christine stepped back respectfully, and the Duchess bore her a kind smile "I can tell you are the most faithful of kin."

Christine bowed "your kind words mean much to me my Lady."

Not another word, Christine helped her Lady into her gown of red, lotion her feet before she slipped on matching slippers before seeing her off, she had remained behind but other duties where in store, with her Lady gone, Christine let her thoughts flow freely as she worked.

* * *

Darren Ward was Captain of the royal guard, escorting the Duke of York and his wife through the deserts to accompany the rest of the royal family. At the House of the Duke and Duchess of Brent, it was lovely little home, fit for only to royals to live in. It was so much cooler inside than in the desert climate outside, the desert journey has put everyone on edge.

Darren Ward hoped to find a woman, being an unmarried man, dedicated to his job, he had not thought about women until his Lord mentioned it.

He needed the right woman to bear his babes, a strong woman in bloodline and in looks, he wanted a woman whom could raise his babes right. His brothers had already married and had their own children, he felt that he was still young enough to take care of a family and teach his sons to take his place when he would die and enter the gates of heaven. However, none of the women he encountered caught his eye, he needed a woman that would appeal to him, and he felt frustrated that none of the women here appeased his tastes; he felt that he would have to force himself to take a woman he felt no attraction too. Rank should matter, maybe the daughter of a duke or count, but they would be back at home, he was very far from home.

"Captain Ward," a voice caught his attention as a woman in a gown greeted him, he bowed respectively and smiled.

"My lady, what do I owe you the honor?" he asked, she smiled almost graciously as he took her hand and kissed her knuckles.

"I am here to only thank you for bravely escorting our valued members of the court," she said with a slight chuckle.

He smiled in return "I humbly thank you for letting me room in your humble home."

She laughed merrily but she ended it quickly when her husband arrived, the Captain bowed yet again.

"My Lord, we meet again?"

"Indeed Captain Ward, I am happy you have brought my brothers family safely, I trust your accommodations are well?"

"Of course sire."

"Ah Christine, please come here," the Duke's wife summons a servant, the Captain hardly payed attention as small talk between he and the Duke continued about the journey.

Until he looked upon the presence by accident and was stricken, he was staring at a young woman, no older than nineteen, pale skin with gypsy black hair and quicksilver eyes, no doubt a personal servant to the Duchess.

"Please also fetch my handkerchief, it seems I have forgotten it, give it to Ida when you return."

"Of course my lady," She bowed with such grace, their eyes met, but only for a moment before she went off to complete the task. His gaze followed her as she disappeared, however, returning his attention to the Duke and Duchess, they pretended that they ignored his star struck gaze.

The Duke left to talk to another Noble when the Duchess gazed at him; it was a gaze of warning.

"You have yet to have my approval, she is my favorite servant and I am not yet willing to lose her…"

As the Duchess left to join her husband, Darren thought of the young servant again, he had captured his focused attention with barely a glace. Yes, that woman would be his bride.

"Captain" The duke summoned, Darren was at his side in a moment, the duke placed a firm grip on his shoulders, he looked grim.

"There will be an attempt on the Duke of York's life by the Order… I suggest you remain on your constant guard."

The Captain felt hatred bubble in his chest as he saluted, "it will be done."

* * *

Altaïr felt an ominous chill go up his spine, but he relaxed shortly after as he sat in darkness, his eyes facing the floor, he was too distracted from last night's scandal, he had lost all control of himself and kissed her, but by heaven was it worth it. The heated passion from them both, it almost drove him mad, but those silvery eyes had melted his stone cold for her, he had almost revealed his face to her. He couldn't though…too dangerous for the both of them, however she already knew that he was of Muslim heritage, her eyes shined with love and no judgment, he knew that if he were to whisk her away, she wouldn't protest.

He blinked, why did he not think of that before, take her away, instead of seeing her every third night. Two days before he could see her again would be pure agony, for that kiss had marked him in his heart deeply.

However, kidnapping was not something he was taught within the order, the order was only open to those whom were willing, and to force someone to join the order would close the open mind. However, the human mind was always unpredictable.

However, Altaïr wanted her close, to see her every day night, to hold her close, protect her from harm. But his job was to remove his enemies, not to protect, to finish the fight from the terrible reign of the Templar's.

Christine lived with the enemy, she was the enemy…but he loved the enemy, and tonight he was going to break the cycle, he would visit her again, he could no longer wait…

"Altaïr"

He turned to face Rashid, his mentor, he bowed his head in respect as the master assassin approached him, and the old man's piercing gaze studied him for a moment before he placed his arms behind his back and straightened.

"Something is troubling you… making you unable to perform your duties."

Altaïr did not answer, he kept his secret close to his heart, and he merely tightened his gauntlets and peered back at his mentor with his hawk like gaze.

"I am merely readying myself for this…I am not troubled master, but I do appreciate your concern." His voice was emotionless, almost cold.

"Altaïr," Rashid answered, "do not go making a fool of yourself…the emotions do not need to be in the way when it comes to a task, it will cloud the clear mind."

Altaïr merely bowed before he left the room without a word, he felt that telling him about Christine now would be dangerous; right now, he did not need the presence of danger nipping at her heels.

* * *

Christine carried a basket filled with herbs and spices from the market; she was running an errand for her lady to make more perfumes and potions. Holding a rose in her hand, she smelled the sweet fragrance before she placed it back in the basket with care. She saw her home in sigh but did not bother to pick up the pace; she was in no real hurry.

The sound of whinnying horses caught her attention when she stopped to look, upon a steed of white she saw the man from earlier. Judging from the armor he wore, she recognized him as the famous Captain of the Guard Darren Ward of Cornwall. His fiery steed pranced in anticipation as he ordered his guards to and fro with a voice filled with authority.

It was not like her beloved angels voice, smooth, husky, with a slight hint of arrogance and sarcasm. He did not demand anything from her; he simply enjoyed basking in her presence.

This man shook her to the very core, she felt that this man would drain the living life out of her, heaven forgive the woman he intends to marry.

The captain happened to turn, seeing her watching she picked up her feet again, now hurrying to the house, she heard the sound of hooves trotting up to her.

"Wait, stop right there woman!"

Christine obeyed, but feeling slightly peeved about being called 'woman.' "I have a name sir."

He almost looked delighted to see her, he was a handsome man with dark brown hair and European skin, he had a small hint of a dark beard growing in, and he reeked with power, money and male dominance.

"Please tell me your name fair one, I have longed to know." He asked, looking down at her from his horse, she looked up at him, warily she replied.

"Christine."

He smiled, "a lovely name for a fair maiden." The smile was too…arrogant, flirtatious, she accepted arrogance in the male nature but this was too much unlike the arrogance in Altaïr's subtle smirk.

He had no scar on the corner of his mouth, his eyes were a soft shade of blue but did not sear through her heart like the golden, hawk-like gaze of her beloved.

"Thank you, I take that as a kind compliment, but I must be going back, I have many duties to do," she turned to leave when an iron grip grabbed her slender wrist and pulled her back. She looked up at him in shock as he planted a firm kiss on her knuckles with a heated gaze as he made eye contact with her.

Christine ripped her hand away and hurried away, her face blushing not out of flattered emotions, she felt disgusted, violated by a man she barely knew that showed the beginnings of courting.

The rest of the afternoon went by in a blur as Christine tried not to think about what had happened, it was in that moment she felt that she wished she could see Altaïr every night. She would tell him about what happened, but she wondered how he would react, so mysterious but that excited her. A treasure hunt was the best description; she could come up with, but Altaïr was a diamond in the rough. An angel that scouted the darkness, which held emotion behind those golden eyes, a smirk that, sent her heart into a dancing rhythm.

She was definitely a foolish woman in love, she began to wonder what her sister and father would say…she did not care what would it matter, they were not here, Maria was busy with her husband and upcoming babe, and her father was enjoying his older days in solitude.

In addition, Christine was here, in a place where an unexpected love blossomed into a mature bloom. And the kiss, Christine knew that was the mere beginning of something more, a patient woman but she felt so eager to move on, she wanted more, she felt ashamed for feeling such selfish needs but she could no longer keep them at bay.

As night approached, she saw the twilight, her favorite time of day had arrived, the time when it was neither to hot or cold, a perfect balance between the two elements, as the sun would set to sleep while the moon would rise and dance across in her silver glory.

Christine enjoyed the twilight by her window, most of the servants were sent to rest as the royals enjoyed a party of their own, and she heard the drunken voices and laughter from below along with the merry music.

Christine felt hat a party should not be happening while good men fought for a long forgotten cause.

A knock on her door brought her out of her thinking, still in her dress she walked to her door and opened it; a messenger boy of youthful age gave her a charming, toothy smile.

"This is for you my lady!"

Charmed by the young boy, she received her mail and gave him a little extra for him to keep; the joy in his face caused her heart to flutter as he ran home with his money. A deep longing rose within her chest at the thought of having children, many women her age already had children and she could not help but feel slightly envious of that.

Closing the door, she looked down at what she received, it was a small package, wrapped in cloth held together by thin rope, and under the rope was a small, red rose. Curiously, she gently opened the package and saw she had received a gift.

A vile of some sorts, she opened it and a sweet smell of jasmine wafted her nose, she looked at the bottle again before looking at the rose.

She made the connection, the kiss on her hand, the present.

The Captain of the Guard was courting her, she placed the gift down on her dressing table, she undressed herself, bathing in a cold-water sponge bath, instead of throwing it away, she rubbed it on, maybe it might linger and Altaïr would notice. She left the rose alone, barely even looking at it as she climbed into bed, leaving the window open…just in case.

* * *

The moon reminded Altaïr of Christine, how radiant she looked in pale moonlight; he traveled in darkness, his destination in sight. He had to wait until the coat was clear, sneaking out was not easy if you did not have a reason.

Clothed in a cloak of darkness, he came to her window, it was open, he peered in and saw the lovely sight of her sleeping, her front facing the moon, he paused to gaze before he slipped in, closing the window and the curtains, he needed security if this was going to happen.

Silent like a cat, he walked across the wood floor and knelt down next to bed, she breathed peacefully, he almost felt bad for interrupting her sleep, but with the gentle stroke of his fingers across the smooth skin of her cheek, she woke up.

Covering her mouth to shield a startled gasp, she sat up, holding a hand over her breast.

"Altaïr," she hissed, looking at the door, "what are you doing here?"

"Visiting you," he smirked, she tried to hold back a smile but it was almost impossible, she relaxed, knowing that they were safe for now. She reached out, cupping the cheek of the face that hid under the black hood.

"I have missed you…even if it was for a day." her voice floated dreamily as she let her thumb gently stroke across his cheek.

Altaïr did not pull away, instead he reached for his hood, he watched as her reaction froze in place, eyes wide as she watched the hood fall back, revealing the face under the hood.

Christine stared, without words or thought as the hood dropped from the head of a young man, hair clipped shorter than the men did in her society, no long length of hair, a dark brown with a slight hint of light brown. His skin was lighter than most and a shadow of stubble showed as if he had shaved that morning. His jaw line was strong; he held Middle Eastern features with strong hints of European blood, he was only a few years older than her, she saw the strength, mystery, pride and arrogance.

However, more than anything, she could clearly see the scar on his sensual mouth, the face that looked so expressionless in that moment, but those golden eyes, the ones she had grown to know and love.

This was Altaïr, he was the most beautiful man she ever laid eyes on, her hawk-eyed angel.

Without a word, she pressed her pale forehead against hers and sighted, her eyes never left his as gold clashed with grey.

"You are exactly how I imagined…" she whispered, almost breathless from the excitement she felt, she saw the smirk form on his lips at he gave her a very sensual look. But he paused, inhaled form a moment before he pulled away from their forehead pressing, he looked curious.

"You smell of Jasmine."

Christine blushed, "Oh…Um, thank you…"

His smile was almost lusty as his fingertips traveled down her neck, "it has added to your natural fragrance… you are very intoxicating."

"You flatter me," Christine murmured, she then remembered what had happened today and frowned.

"Oh yes…I need to mention this but…I think I have a suitor." With her eyes, she mentions to the rose.

Altaïr looked at it, she saw a flicker of anger in his golden eyes before he moved closer, embracing her, bringing her close.

"Well, we don't want that do we?" he murmured huskily, kissing along the inside of her forearm.

Blushing, she smiled as she watched his sensual play, "no…we can't." she replied, her voice soft.

"Did he give you the perfume too?" he asked his gaze boring into her, Christine wanted to lie but in her heart, she felt that it would ruin the trust. It almost seemed that lying to him would be…almost impossible.

"Yes…but…I wore it to see if you would have noticed it when you arrived…two days from now…please forgive me for wearing another man's gift."

He inhaled the scent of her skin before his fingers ran through the waves of black hair before he drew himself closer.

"A kiss…and all will be forgiven."

Christine obliged, pressing a passionate kiss onto his mouth, he responded eagerly as they explored each other for a few long moments. Hand in hair, bodies' close, and eager mouths hungry for more as the kiss came to a slow end.

When they broke apart, Christine breathed shakily while and untangled his fingers from her hair.

"You are forgiven…" he smirked before he claimed her lips again.

* * *

**Read and Review... more to come! still slowly expanding on Christine...no worries.**


	3. Heart

**This is definitely a fan girl chapter... uh...enjoy!**

* * *

The Duke and the Duchess were taking a stroll through their personal garden, though their arms were links, there was a distance between them and neither of them spoke until the Duke made a comment.

"My love…Sir Ward has suddenly become very fond of your hand maid."

The Duchess, with her pristine handkerchief dabbed the sweat on her brow delicately, she had thought about it.

Yes, for the past three days, Sir Ward was all but a titter about Christine, she watched as he courted her with small gifts and invitations. However, Christine, such a gentle soul declined them all with kindness, the duchess could see that she had no interest in the Captain of the Guard when other girls were admiring him from afar; he was such a stubborn man, unable to notice the shy rejections.

"Christine has no interest in him…such a pity," she replied, inwardly she was pleased with herself that Christine had the nerve to refuse a man whom would probably one day become positively vulgar

"Indeed…They would make a lovely couple; I can see fine children in their future."

The Duchess wanted to roll her eyes, though at heart she was a kind woman, she had gotten used to Christine's utter devotion, in a sense, she wasn't ready to hand her maid over to him.

And that is not a very courtly manner at all, in fact it was quiet shameful that The Duchess didn't make an introduction, Christine's family status and blood line was indeed good enough for Sir Darren Ward.

"I shall encourage your handmaid to not keep stalling on Sir Ward's behalf, a man as patient as he could lose it."

The Duchess, feeling rather sour about this merely nodded her head; in that moment, she felt how truly powerless she was.

"Let it be your will my husband."

* * *

Christine, walking through the crowed marketplace felt a presence behind her, looking over her shoulder; her sudden company was no surprise to her. The familiar white tunic and the Red Cross, symbol of the honorable Templar's.

"My Lord, what brings you out here?" she asked, looking at one of the dried herbs that hung from a wooden booth, an old toothless woman said something in Arabic she did not understand.

"You have been avoiding me, when I have only been courteous to your needs." His scowl made Christine nervous as she quickened her steps.

"I beg for your apology my lord but, I am just not ready to wed yet…" she lied, of course she was ready to wed, but not to him!

With an iron grip, Ward grabbed her arm, making her stop and turn to face him, he was showing every ounce of infatuation and desire for her but Christine merely stared back with a frightened gaze.

"I am desperate for your attention when you give me none, please…" he pleaded, he was not a man to plead, he was furious that this woman could make him go down on his knees and beg for her affections.

"If heaven above could only see the torture you are doing to me," he said, using lovely words to touch her heart.

Christine felt her pale face flush, she tried to pull away but he would not let her go, "I am sorry I am device of your torture but I just can't love anyone right now."

Ward loosened his grip and Christine managed to pull away, they remained in eye contact for a moment, she saw the hurt on his face and she sighed, he pitied him, in her heart, she felt that if she had never met Altaïr, she would be more receptive to his courting.

"Christine!" a voice shouted, she looked over her shoulder to see a woman waving her hand at her, recognizing her as one of the women she was with on her errand. She returned her gaze back to Sir Ward but he was already moving away from her through the crowd. She closed her eyes; she murmured a silent prayer before she joined the company of the women.

"Christine, there is a hanging at the gallows, let's go and watch!" A young woman named Priscilla said excitedly, Christine felt disgusted with that idea.

"I will not watch public deaths, I find it barbaric!"

The young woman merely laughed; one of the older woman by the name of Josephine, shook her head, "Tis culture Christine, Priscilla has always had a dark nature about her, enjoyment of death is a sick thing."

"Amen" Christine replied, but they followed Priscilla, sticking close together to not lose one another. Approaching the gallows, Christine saw the crowd cheering as a line of people, sobbing and praying to god to be forgiven for their sins. Some whom were of Islam faith were praying silently, accepting death.

A child was among the ones to die, Christine gasped, as he was dragged to the wooden stage, dread ripped her very heart apart; she turned her gaze, unable to watch the sick deed of killing a child.

A cry of fear then silence, before the crowd cheered as the next sinner was forced to the stage, announced of his sin before he was killed.

"To hell with them!" Priscilla shouted, Christine felt sick as she turned to walk away, Josephine gave her a look of sympathy but continued to watch, unaffected by the deaths that continued.

"This is what becomes of those who disobey our laws!" A Templar shouted, waving his hand to those whom were already dead. Christine could not listen to this madness any longer, she began to walk away from the crowd, trying to get away from it all, she hit someone roughly in the shoulder, and she sidestepped and apologized.

"Christine…" a melodious voice caught her by surprise as she turned to stare at a tall, hooded figure in a white garb, his belt of brown leather with assorted weapons, unlike the Templers, this figure was dressed lightly, made for agility and speed rather than heavy defense. His hood hid the identity of his face.

Her breath hitched as she recognized the scar on the lips, meeting in public was dangerous and Christine's heart hammered loudly within her breast, what if someone saw!

"Altaïr…" she gasped, glancing over her shoulder to look at the roaring and chanting crowd, "what are you doing here?"

A small smirk touched his sensual lips, "You must leave Christine it's dangerous to be around me right now."

Christine felt confused, "Altaïr, what do you mean…"

"Just go Christine." His voice was cold, he pushed her back more, as if to give her a head start, but her body would not listen, she called out to him in a hoarse voice but he mingled within the crowd,

"Altaïr!" Christine cried, trying to follow him through the thickness of the crowd, with desperate eyes she looked for anything that resembled what he wore, but it was as if he had vanished, invisible to the naked eye.

"Christine," Josephine pulled her back to the edge of the crowd, "who are you calling to!"

Christine did not answer as she stared amongst the crowd, looking for any sign of her beloved Altaïr.

She saw a glimpse of white, her silvery eyes kept watch until she saw him, rubbing to the stage of death where he attacked, the guards that protected the law enforcer. Christine gasped out of fear for her beloved, as his agility and speed were an advantage to the men with heavy armor and swords.

Like a hawk swooping in on its prey, Altaïr had silenced the man, an air of shock and tension silenced the crowd before they cried out, wanting the assassin's head for the death of their executioner!

Altaïr ran for his life from the guard that intended on killing him with their large, heavy swords. Christine felt fear, fear that if Altaïr were to be caught, her heart only assumed the worst.

Christine broke away from the group, walking through the heavy crowd of people, she had no idea what to do, and she could not just return home and wait for her angel to return. Christine was never a forth coming or daring woman, but when time calls for help, Christine knew she would be there to aid it.

"This way!" a voice barked angrily, Christine's heart lurched, if those were the guards after him, he must be close.

Picking up her skirts, Christine followed the general direction of where she heard the voice, walking through a tight alleyway to reach another dusty pathway. Trying to remain calm and not trip over herself, Christine saw the guards running, weapons raised and aggressively pushing good people aside to get to their target.

"Altaïr" she whispered, she felt confident that her angel would not be caught the fact that he blended in with shadows and moved silently, their strength in armor and weapons were no match for his swiftness and agility.

Following behind the general direction of the guards, she saw that they had lost him, they shouted angrily at each other, Christine felt happy that her love had gotten away, however, Christine could not shake that she had witness her beloved angel become an angel of death.

His mysterious ways had become quite clear, Christine and Altaïr were of opposite worlds, the Assassin's were dangerous foe to the people, the organization she grew up with, but Christine had committed the ultimate betrayal.

Falling in love with an Assassin would surely bring wrath upon her.

* * *

The Duke was pleased at the reaction of the Captain when he arranged the marriage between Christine and Darren.

"It gives me great pleasure to know you have seen my despair."

"Not at all my son, Christine is a shy girl…sometimes she needs a little persuasion. She will come around, be a good wife to you."

A servant poured him wine in his small glass, "My wife shall tell her the news, tonight you and Christine will meet for dinner, there you can properly court her."

"You have done so much to arrange this…how can I ever repay you?" Darren placed his fist over his heart, as if to swear a vow.

The Duke smiled, as if he had an idea already in mind, "Destroy the Order, and bring me the Apple of Eden…swear to me you shall do it."

Darren straightened, he bowed deeply in front of the Duke, "your will is my own my lord."

* * *

Upon receiving the news, Christine dropped the comb in her hand and fumbled with it for a moment, the shock and terror created from the news threatened her to break down into wails of sorrow.

"My Lady, please do not do this, I cannot marry him, I repulse the very thought of sharing his bed, please, I beg of you!"

Christine fell to her Mistresses feet, clutching them as she began to sob, her very heart shattering into a million pieces.

The Duchess felt compassion in her heart, though a noblewoman should show restraint against her servants, The Duchess was always fond of Christine.

"I cannot deny my husband Christine, I must do what he will of me, and you must meet Darren Ward tonight."

Christine let out another wail, "no my lady!"

"Stop your wailing girl; I will hear no more of it!" The Duchess shouted.

Christine stopped, getting to her feet; she wiped the tears from her face and put on a face of pale emptiness. This reaction was the same when the Duchess learned of her marriage to the Duke, but she was already a broken woman.

"Run along back to your room, I dismiss you for tonight."

Christine ran out of the Duchesses room, running to the other building where her room resided, she closed and locked the door behind her as she let her emotions flow freely. She sobbed as she fell to the floor, crying in her hands.

It was as if all her dreams and wishes were taken away by force, God had been more than cruel to her, she bared love for only Altaïr and no other man, but her beloved God placed her in the hands of a man she barely knew.

For long hours, Christine laid on her bed, watching the sun slowly set, soon when the sun seemed to touch the earth by the eve, Christine would have to join her future husband for dinner.

Christine got up to undress, changing into another dress more suited for tonight as she began to unstrapped the strings of her dress.

She was reaching down to the last part, untying the knot when heat gently caressed the skin on her back. Turning to face the invader with a wild gaze only to fall deeper into the arms of her secret lover,

"Altaïr?" she gasped, only to sigh in bliss when his lips touched the nape of her neck.

"Your undressing now, getting ready for bed already?" he whispered huskily, his lips traveled across her shoulder before she felt the freedom from her dress and Altaïr slipped his hands scandalously under the bodice of the dress, causing her to gasp out of surprise and delight.

"Oh!" she looked over her shoulder at him, her forehead pressed against his temple.

"No…" she pulled away from her lovers caressing, and reluctantly pushed the sleeves back up her shoulders, "My Lady has commanded me to join Sir Darren Ward for dinner…they feel that I should accept his courtship and eventually wed him."

That sadness tore at her heart again as she looked back at Altaïr, he looked emotionless and cold, Christine felt a chill course through her body, and her eyes grew wide as she stepped away.

"Your…marrying him?" he asked, his tone cold as ice, Christine let out a shaky gasp, though his face showed no emotion, his golden eyes were filled with torment and rage.

"No, never," Christine proclaimed passionately, "but if I disobey them tonight, I will be beaten as a punishment!"

Altaïr let out a heavy sigh, Christine suddenly felt infuriated by his behavior, she adjusted her dress, making herself more comfortable, "how can you be angry with me when you killed a man today, you are my sworn enemy!" she hissed, a moment after, Christine wished she never uttered it. The anger that flashed hotly across his handsome face struck something into her heart.

"But I still love you my angel…" she said softly, letting the dress fall to her feet, standing half naked before him, any Christian woman in their right mind would never do such a thing, but Christine was never in her right mind.

Altaïr stared at the beauty of her bosom before he strode over, pulling her into an embrace, the rough cloth of his white tunic rubbed uncomfortably against her breast, but she relaxed into the strength and warmth of him.

"I will be here when you return," he whispered into her ear, "however…"

Altaïr gently pushed her down onto the bed, his golden eyes never leaving his pale angel, though the moon was waning, it was still clear and bright, casting her silvery glow onto Christine.

Christine stared in wonder as Altaïr removed his belt and arsenal of weapons before he shed the white tunic, revealing the sculpted bronze torso. Christine felt her blood run through her veins, her face grew hot and her belly quivered in excitement. Altaïr crawled on top of her, staring into her silvery eyes with a golden heat, she saw a feral desire the flashed white hot in his eyes before he claimed her lips with his, pressing his hard, powerful body onto her.

Christine succumbed to his kiss, though this action was considered sinful, scandalous, evil, but Christine casted all thought of what God wanted and embraced Altaïr with an open heart, her body ready for the passion and desire he seemed to promise with each kiss and caress. She wrapped her arms around his powerful torso, feeling the power in his body he pressed his weight onto her.

She thought about her dinner with Ward, but she soon forgot it when Altaïr left her lips to trace his lips down her slender neck then kiss all the way down to her breast before he claimed a pale pink nipple into his mouth. Suckling it ever so gently, his hot gaze flashed up to look at her as she squealed in surprise and delight at his expert touch.

Altaïr let out a soft moan, swirling his tongue, gathering her sweet taste, savoring it, He was well aware of her dinner with the Ward, but he was going to take his sweet time in delaying her. His other hand ran down her side, feeling the generous curve of her waist and the gentle swell of her hip, he tightened his grip in her hip, he nudged her thighs open with his own hips before he pressed his swelling bulge against her, guiding her long, lovely legs to wrap around his hips, keeping him there.

Christine gasped at the extra, hard heat between her thighs, she tightened her legs around his hips, her silvery gaze watched him abandon the first nipple and move onto the other, coaxing another groan of delight, her body began to tremble under the desire, passion and pleasure she felt.

She tried to move, she wanted to give him pleasure but he kept her under his weight as he continued to give her breast his undivided attention.

"Altaïr…" she groaned, her voice pitched in the heated desire she felt, Altaïr responded by pressed up against her, he let out a grunt before he stopped suckling her now berry red nipples and kissed her fiercely, hot, wild, his taste and smell flooded her senses, sending her body into a frenzy.

He pulled away from her, he stare at her now moist and swollen lips, she stared wide eyed at him, and with gentle fingers he pushed a lock of gypsy black hair out of her face. He gave her a rather sly smirk before he lifted his torso, to give her breathing room.

"When you leave for dinner, you will not be able to think about anything but what had just happened…"

Christine blushed, but she let him have a little smile in agreement before he lifted himself off Christine and the bed, standing shirtless in his masculine beauty, Christine basked in it for a moment before she got up from the bed and headed to her small wardrobe.

"you are a clever man…" she picked out her only fine dress of pale blue with silver embroidery, Altaïr collapsed and relaxed onto the bed, he watched her change into her lovely dress, he felt sad that he could no longer gaze at her lush body, but he admired her lovely, flushed face.

"There will be more when you return," his voice was soft, full of promise.

Christine sighed, as she laced up the bodice of her dress, her nipples still sensitive from Altaïr's lavish attention, she wanted to cast an irritated glance at him but she turned to her small mirror and did her hair in a simple braided style, pulling it up on her head.

She saw the strong, slender fingers on the crook of her neck as the traced along the slightly exposed skin of her shoulders, the pale blue accented her skin more, she looked up Altaïr with a sad gaze,

"I must go now… the Ward is not a patient man."

He kissed her temple, he stepped aside as he watched her head for the door, only to stop her again with another passionate kiss, Christine relished in his taste before she reluctantly pulled away.

"I will return…" she promised lovingly before she turned and opened the door, leaving Altaïr waiting in her room, but her body still flushed from earlier as she descended down the stairs.

* * *

**Altair you pervy clever man you... wait till chapter four comes in, I will make sure its quick this time. More on Christine's character I sweeeaar... **


	4. Soul

**I am so terribly sorry for the long wait... I am a horrible updater. **

**The Dinner from Hell as someone so kindly put it ;P Ladies… try to imagine yourself in Christine's position later on… ;D**

* * *

Christine had to hide her trembling hands as she descended the steps; she walked slowly, trying in vain to delay her time with Sir Darren Ward. She found a path lit by candles, a romantic setting for the dinner but Christine wasn't charmed, the path had lead her to the splendid dining room, the long table and as the one end, it was beautifully decorated and set for two.

She slowly approached the table, the man she was supposed to be dining with was not anywhere in sight, the head chair was resembled more of a throne, she assumed that her seat was at his right.

"Good evening Christine…"

She slowly turned to face her dinner companion, Sir Ward, dressed in his finest garb smiled at her affectionately, indeed handsome and very intimidating, his height was almost exactly the same as Altaïr but Ward was indeed broader and significantly hairier, a couple days growth of a beard trimmed back neatly to give a nice stubble, rugged look. He was very close, she could smell the spicy, masculine perfume he wore and could tell that he had recently bathed.

"Good Evening Sir Ward," she curtsied politely, avoiding his light blue gaze.

Ward had crooked his finger under her chin and lifted her face so she met his gaze; she saw affection, desperation and satisfaction.

"No need to curtsy before your future husband Christine," he said softly, still smiling at her.

Christine felt a shiver roll down her spine, but it was different compared to the shivers she received from Altaïr's ravenous body worship. Christine wanted to voice that she was not going to become his future wife but she held back her tongue, she straightened, staring up at him.

Sir Ward gently took her hand and led her to her seat, as she assumed, it was on the right side, he pulled out her seat for her and she sat down.

A servant appeared and poured sweet smelling red wine for them, Christine knew this servant and they exchanged glances before she left dining pair.

"Tonight I have ordered the finest meal to prepared, I hope you are hungry?" he asked in a kind tone to his voice.

Christine smiled at him, but it was not a sweet or charming smile, it was tight and polite, the atmosphere of the dinner was anything but comfortable and pleasing.

"Drink the wine my dear…" Ward handed her the goblet made out of the finest shell, Christine took the goblet and sipped at it, she was not going to drink herself into a vulnerable state.

"I am very appreciative of the fine meal, it gives me the chance to try out my dress," Christine said, trying to avoid his gaze, which felt ice cold to her.

"I am glad, I am very appreciative of the dress, your simple style brings forth a subtle elegancy to you… all the men of the court shall be jealous"

Christine let out a short laugh, "Oh no… my sister Maria is worshiped on the very ground she walks, my golden sister…" she said rather fondly, yet the growing sprouts of envy began to grow and she felt ashamed.

Darren Ward continued his gazing, he eased back comfortably into the throne and gently swirled the contents in his jeweled goblet.

"A sister, but she cannot be as fair as you are…" he leaned forward his fingers began to brush against the pale skin on her hand.

"Your skin, so supple yet delicate…"

His fingers traveled up her arm but Christine pulled her arm away, looking at him rather peeved, but he merely smiled and eased back into his throne.

The sudden warm smell of meat and spices filled the air as an elaborate feast was set out, Christine knew she was hungry and she felt her mouth water at the sight, but she continued to avoid the intense, ice-cold gaze from the Captain.

"Why do you deny me?" Ward asked, leaning forward, Christine leaned away and began to pile food onto her silver plate. Avoid answering the question,

"Christine, you have been nothing but torture, you say nothing, not any amount of pleasure when I gave giving you my heart on a spit, I will no longer play your game!" he slammed his goblet onto the table to prove his point.

"My game," Christine snapped, looking rather confused, "I barely even know you yet here you are, demanding for my affections when I hardly know whom I am giving it too!"

They stared at each other for a long moment, Christine never looked away or backed down, and instead she leaned away from him while still keeping her contact before she finally broke the gaze and focused on her meal.

Ward began to laugh, it rippled quietly until it began a thunderous ring through the dining hall, and Christine felt mildly disturbed by this action.

"You are right…I am rather demanding am I?"

"Yes" Christine answered simply, she couldn't look into his ice blue eyes without feeling a rather unnerving chill, this man, though Christine couldn't prove it, she knew that he was not sane.

He smiled at her "You are rather straight forward… no maid would say something like that to me"

Christine raised her head proudly "I am not your ordinary person…as Captain of the Guard, you should be taking interest in someone higher up than I"

He stared at her for a long time before he smiled; it reminded her of a snake "I would rather walk through hell than take another woman"

Christine had the image of a hawk and a snake in her head, but in her mind, the hawk and easily overpowered and eaten the snake "that would be a very long walk"

Ward let out a low, deep growl "Temptress… you push me at arm's length when I know you want more…"

Christine cried out when she felt Ward grab her arm and pull her to his body, struggling against him but his iron grip kept her there, his other hand ran along the exposed base of her neck, a disgusted chill ran through her body.

"Daughter of night time pleasure, you run away from me with the playfulness of a nymph and I am the satyr that will finally claim you!" he growled huskily in her ear, causing Christine to shake herself violently but he would not let go, instead he wrapped and arm around her waist as he shoved the plates of food out of the way, causing a ruckus.

"Christine, I must inform you that I am not a patient man!" he pushed her against the edge of the table his face close and he grabbed her hips and pulled her forward do she could feel the hard erection through her skirts.

"I desire you my sweet angel, your innocence and beauty will tame this beast within me, yet it will crave to pleasure you, I only seek to pleasure you…"

"Let go of me!" Christine shoved him away, her breast rising up and down as she stared at him with wide, terrified eyes before she picked up her skirts and walked out briskly from the dining hall.

"Christine!"

She would not listen as she headed for the stairs, running up them and down the hall before she came upon her door, slamming it behind her as she strode into the room.

"Altaïr?" she looked around, not finding him in her room like he had promised, a strange wave of sadness flooded over her as she sat down in front of her vanity, she began to take down her hair. Though she was restless, she felt the ever growing sense of sleep; this was by far a very unsuccessful dinner for the Captain. She lit few of the candles in her room to give her some light to work by.

Movement caught her attention as she looked in the mirror to see the familiar dark cloaked figure of her beloved coming through the window. She stood up from her vanity and ran to him, embracing him as she began to shake.

"Altaïr, please forgive me… please I," she was silenced with a passionate kiss, her trembling ceased, wrapping her arms around his neck.

Altaïr broke the kiss and gazed into her eyes "come with me Christine… live with me" he whispered softly, running his fingers through the loose parts of her hair.

"But…my mistress will need me" Christine murmured softly, looking away for a moment but Altaïr gently encouraged her to look back at him

"I can take care of you…please Christine; I will be able to protect you there"

Christine wanted to be whisked away from here but she felt that this would only betray her family, break her father's heart. Conflicted emotions clutched at her chest as she thought about it more, looking into his golden eyes, she felt love yet fear. She would be living with the enemy, not only would she be betraying her family but her people and her religion.

"Altaïr… give me three days to think about it, only three days, on the third night, you will have my answer" she replied softly, kissing the scar on his lip tenderly.

"Three days…no more" Altaïr whispered back "I missed you my Christine…"

"I love you…" she had barely enough time to reply before he seized her lips in a passionate kiss, though he so badly wanted to make her eternally his right here, he felt that it would be better if he did it in his home in his bed. He felt Christine reach up behind her and take out the rest of her pins and braids, letting the hair fall into a cascade of inky lock that shimmered slightly in the dim moon light.

"I will not take you here…" he whispered huskily against her ear "not when I can in utter privacy…"

Christine uttered a small moan at his words; her body trembled as she felt his finger dexterously undo the strings of her bodice before she felt her dress loose around her waist, the cool air nipped at the exposed and heated skin as she felt him undo her corset. Soon she felt his finger tips trace along the pale skin on her back, arching slightly as his finger tips traveled up her back before caressing her neck and kissing her again.

A knocked banged at her door which startled the lovers from their sins, Christine hurried to pull the sleeves around her shoulders, and she turned to look at Altaïr whom was hiding in the shadowy parts of her room.

Christine went to answer the door, to her great relief it was Josephine, she looked frantic and worried.

"Christine, what have you done to upset the captain?" she hissed

Christine almost felt insulted "Nothing, I merely walked away, I wasn't going to tolerate one more moment of his harassment"

Josephine looked horrified "he touched you!"

Christine winced "he tried… but I got away before he could"

Josephine clucked her tongue knowingly before she patted Christine's cheek "you need a gentle man, one who is thinking with his heart and not his cock, the captain made quite a mess after you left, we all heard it"

Christine held back a laugh as she watched Josephine walk away from her bedroom; she closed the door falling to her knees, her skirts spilled out as she looked at her hands in her lap.

"He tried to touch you?" Altaïr spoke with malice; his stride was heavy with anger

Christine looked up at his tall frame, her eyes wandered for a moment before she sighed tiredly "Yes, but I managed to get away didn't I?"

Altaïr knelt down, taking her hand into his, kissing the palm before he looked at her with his gold eyes, flashes of hot anger and desire could seem seen clearly in the burning candle light.

"Altaïr…" she murmured softly but he responded with a hard and fierce kiss that stole her very breath away.

He whispered something in Arabic before he stood, walking across her small room before he exited through her window and into the night. Christine suddenly wished she had left with him.

* * *

Altaïr left his room early, though he had returned late that night, he was sure no one had seen him leave. However he saw the scowl that was coming from a man that hated his guts.

"Novice" Malik shouted.

Altaïr growled under his breath before stopping and waiting for him to approach, dressed in similar attire and were of similar rank, Malik approached him, getting close to his face threateningly.

"I saw you come in late last night…you could of attracted spies!"

Altaïr brushed him off by bumping into his shoulder roughly; he was definitely not in the mood for him.

Walking down the halls, he could smell the familiar scent of tobacco and finely brewed coffee, he was in a foul mood, not from his lack of sleep but something just made him angry.

"Altaïr…" an old voice called to him, Altaïr stopped in his tracks as Al Mualim approached him. Bowing his head respectfully, he stood still as the man placed a hand on his shoulder firmly.

"Let us talk my pupil…"

Both men walked in silence till they reached a quite spot, Altaïr stared at the view of tall, stone and wood architecture from western Europe, in the distance a man called in song to come the Mosque to pray.

"I am concerned for your well being Altaïr…the men that follow you are suspicious, some have gone as far as to think you might be on the verge of betrayal"

Altaïr turned sharply to look at his mentor and scowled in anger "who are these men who foolishly accuse me!"

Al Mualim raised his hand to silence him "I assure you my pupil that they are only concerned about the safety of our sanctuary."

Letting out a heavy sigh, Altaïr looked out to the rising sun; the promises of heat on his face reminded him of last night, he looked to his master and spoke calmly,

"I have found a woman…but she is a servant to the enemy."

Al Mualim's face grew stern "The name of this woman?"

"Her name…is Christine Lefèvre, hand maiden to the Duchess," he glanced at his master, surprised by the look of relief on his face.

"The Lefèvre family stand on neutral ground, there will be no harm in bringing her here."

With an excited sigh, Altaïr bowed to his master before he left, thoughts swirling in his mind as he imagined his Christine coming here to live with him, he would train her to protect herself if he could not.

* * *

The slap stung Christine's cheek but she stood rigid and avoided the Duchess's angry gaze, though tears of pain were forming in her eyes.

"You foul wench, I should whip you for your disrespect to the Captain!" she screamed, Christine barely flinched at the thought of being whipped.

"I would like to know why you declined the Captain's kind offer…wealth, comfort and protection. And yet, you cast it aside like an ungrateful child!"

Christine whipped her head to face her mistress, with wide, wet eyes, her grey eyes closely resembled storm clouds, anger and hatred emanated from her.

"I would rather be whipped than to share a bed with the likes of him!" she proclaimed passionately

The other maids gasped in horror, such defiance to royalty was immediate punishment. The duchess's older face twisted from shock to anger, she slapped Christine again, this time hard enough to send her to the floor.

"Out of my sight you filth!" The Duchess ordered angrily.

Christine crawled to her feet and slowly walked out of her room, hand to her cheek as she wandered aimlessly about the mansion until she found her room. Closing the door behind her, she looked to her closet, and then to her bed. After a moment of thought, Christine began to gather her things, she had traveled light when she came and soon she would leave like this.

Not an hour later Christine walked out of the house with her head held high, looking to the dusty streets as her enthusiastic steps walked away from the prison she had so long endured.

Catching sight of something moving, she recognized the man on the giant white horse; he was scowling at her from a distance and would not approach her. Christine turned away, soon blending within the crowd. She headed for the only safe place she knew of, the church.

Small, orderly, lit but candles and the heavy smell of incense filled the air as she walked inside from the crowd, many people were here praying to the golden cross with a man pinned to it. Dipping her fingers into a wooden bowl of holy water, she acknowledged the Father, Son and Holy Spirit before she sat down.

Pulling her rosary from her bag she began to pray for help, she had no way of getting home, she had left without any means of supporting herself and had broken her promise to her beloved angel. Tears of regret and sadness fell as she prayed, her body began to tremble but she only prayed more.

_Heaven help and forgive me… give me guidance so I can live another day!_

Hours had passed and soon Christine feel asleep from the sheer emotional exhaustion, much to the Father of the church surprise and amusement that someone would fall asleep in a church when he found her.

"Wake up child…"

Christine jolted away, her eyes bleary and wondering before she looked at the Father. She rubbed her eyes and suddenly became embarrassed.

"Forgive me father, I mean no disrespect…" she said tiredly

"It's alright my girl" he said tenderly "Only one is truly safe at sleep in front of the lord." An amused tone in his voice caused her to smile.

"You best be on your way, it is growing dark and I do not want misfortune to happen to a fair one like you."

Christine suddenly looked worried "but Father…I have nowhere to go, I was casted out by my mistress because she and I did not agree to something."

The Father raised a bushy brow "feisty at tongue I see?"

She shook her head "I only speak my mind when I feel it will come to great harm…"

The Father patted her shoulder gently "well you are safe here, but I can only let you stay for a night, then you might find some other place to go."

"Bless you father" Christine smiled, full of gratitude.

* * *

***le gasp* Nooo Christine you fool, why did you leave!**

**More soon...**


End file.
